March on

Hot flashes. Cold sweat. I wake up at 2:48 am and relive my nightmare all over. I wish that I could stop obsessing. I show up during the day, go to work, deal with drama and do my job. I come home and the silence hits me. It doesn't leave until I go to work the next day. So many nights I lay awake and think of my son.

I feel like I have failed him. I have lost myself without his presence. I find small comfort in the future and yet it feels a long way off when confronted with the reality of today. I would have liked to have handled it better, to be one of those people that changes their life and helps other going through similar pain. Instead I wallow in the emptiness I feel.

I have moments of grace. Times when I am proud of myself for my ability to council a friend, find joy in the day or call a plan to fruition. I keep trying to embrace those times and propell myself forward. My last moment of the day will forever be spent wondering "what if" and thinking about my baby. I will find a similar light in my next child but the ghost of my son will follow me wherever I go. Stronger...perhaps, but also broken in a way that cannot be healed.